


In other circumstances

by crystalcooper



Category: Sherlock (TV) RPF
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, Mutual Pining, Mutually Unrequited, Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 20:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14269335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalcooper/pseuds/crystalcooper
Summary: The long and difficult story of freebatch.This has been written over many years, is full of angst and overthinking, and has a more hopeful conclusion than it is likely in real life. But one can always hope.





	1. Benedict and Katia

_“According to rumours, Benedict and gorgeous Russian Katia, 26 are getting close, with Now Magazine reporting that the pair was spotted kissing and cosying up on a sun lounger after the nuptials. Cumberbatch and Elizarova were first linked last year after being spotted out together. However, Cumberbatch denied the rumours at the time, telling the Daily Telegraph that the two are 'just old friends'.”_

 

He looked at her across the table, the clatter of the restaurant surrounding them.

\- Hey, I know I said this before but…. Thank you. Again. -

She laughed a little.

\- Deny something and they will all believe it, won’t they? -

He wrinkled his nose.

\- Well, they’re _journalists_. You can’t expect much wit from them. -

This sent both in a fit of giggles for a good minute.

\- Speaking of which… - She had sobered up, and was mindlessly caressing his hand on the tablecloth. - Since we are in it anyway, I thought we could… make the most out of this arrangement. -

He gently pulled away his hand from hers.

\- You know what I think about that. -

She sat back and crossed her arms, vaguely pouting.

\- Oh, come on, it wouldn’t be anything serious, you know I don’t do serious. Just once in while, when we meet. Or just this once. You _do_ look lonely. -  She paused. - Since I’m a bit lonely myself, we could be lonely together. -

\- I know you mean well, but I’m not interested, really. -

She sat still, looking at him with an intense look.

-You know, someone could start to think the rumours are true, after all…-

\- Katia. -

His tone was warning.

\- It certainly looks like so from here. -

He sighed.

\- We’re only friends. You know that, everyone knows that, so just stop being silly. -

She slid forward, and murmured.

\- Than stay with me tonight. -

\- I can’t! - 

He immediately felt guilty for snapping at her. They sat in silence for a while, at bad ease, each trying to evade the other’s gaze. At length, she spoke, taking him by surprise.

\- Why don’t you speak to him? If you have to sexually seclude yourself for him, you might at least get something out of it. -

He seemed to have lost the ability to get angry. He only looked tired, and rubbed a hand on his eyes.

\- It’s not… I’m not… We’re friends. Good friends, but I’m not in love with him or anything. And even if I was, he’s married. -

She raised an eyebrow.

\- I know you don’t really believe in marriage, but he does. He’s an honest man, and a good one. -

\- So you _are_ in love with him, you’re just being noble about it. -

\- I’m not – why are we even doing this? -

\- I don’t know. I just wanted to take you to bed. -

She smirked.

He started to laugh.

\- Alright, alright. -

Her eyes gleamed with mischief.

\- Alright? You’ll come? -

\- No! -

They broke out in another fit of giggles that soon became laughter. After a while she tried to catch her breath, looking at him bewildered.

\- Good god Ben, if this is even remotely near to how it is between the two of you, he must be pining for you just as much as you are for him. -

He smiled.

\- Does that mean you’re pining for me? -

She tried to look affronted.

\- Don’t be silly, I never pine. I seduce, and conquer. –  

\- You’re not seducing me…-

\- Can’t conquer a soul that is taken. Even thought - she lowered her voice and smiled wickedly. - I don’t really need the soul. The body would do nicely. -

He rolled his eyes.

\- Really. Now you’re sounding like a succubus. -

\- Why! I’m much more dangerous than that. -

They dissolved in another fit of giggles.

 

 

 

They were leaving.

\- …did you mean it? Him pining for me. -

She sighed.

\- Come for a drink, will you? I’m not gonna attempt your virtue, I promise. -

\- …fine. -


	2. If it wasn't for the nights

_"I've got appointments, work I have to do_

_Keeping me so busy all the day through..."_

 

Benedict was sitting in the cafeteria of the theatre, a cup of coffee in his hand, trying hard to concentrate. As the music changed and the new song started to play he lifted his eyes from the script in front of him. It sounded like some kind of ABBA song. Benedict sighed, and briefly considered to move somewhere else more quiet. He didn't hate ABBA that bad, really, but pop music had never been his thing, and now it was making it seriously difficult to concentrate. He needed to give an answer on this play…

 

_"… They're the things that keep me from thinking of you_

_oooh baby, I miss you so, I know I'm never gonna make it…"_

 

The line got his attention. He vaguely remembered having listened to that song many times before, but he had never put that much thought into the lyrics.

 

_"Oh, I'm so restless, I don't care what I say_

_And I lose my temper ten times a day_

_Still it's even worse when the night is on its way_

_It's bad, oh, so bad…"_

He remembered the mortified face of his assistant that morning. The poor girl had been assigned to him only the previous week, she was really excited to be the personal assistant of Benedict Cumberbatch… He had snapped at her for something or another, the worst was he couldn't even remember _what_. And the day before he had had a row with his agent on the phone. It had never happened before. He had tried to blame it on the weariness, on the too few hours sleep, but he knew that was only a part of the truth.

 

_"Somehow I'd be doing alright if it wasn't for the nights_

_(If it wasn't for the nights I think that I could make it)_

_I'd have courage left to fight if it wasn't for the nights_

_(If it wasn't for the nights I think that I could take it)"_

 

Each and every night since the wrapping of the third series of Sherlock had been a nightmare. He had been losing sleep, wide awake in his bed, rolling over and over, overthinking. Everyone around him could tell he wasn't ok, they had tried to suggest he’d take something to sleep, or go talk to someone. He didn't want to talk. The worst days, when weariness and stress from work added to the mix, he would fall asleep out of sheer exhaustion. But it wasn't restful at all.

 

_"How I fear the time when shadows start to fall_

_Sitting here alone and staring at the wall_

_Even I could see a light if it wasn't for the nights_

_(If it wasn't for the nights I think that I could make it)_

_Somehow I'd be doing alright if it wasn't for the nights_

_(If it wasn't for the nights I think that I could take it)"_

He had tried pills, he had tried infusions and hot milk and absolutely every remedy against sleeping problems he could ever remember hearing of. But the problem was, Benedict knew perfectly well what his problem was. If just he could manage to shut up his brain… Images filled his head all the time, making his heart ache, keeping him awake. Sometimes he even cried, but of course he never acknowledged it. Tears were strangers on his face.

 

_"No one to turn to, you know how it is_

_I was not prepared for something like this_

_Now I see them clearly, the things that I miss_

_Oooh baby, I feel so bad, I know I'm never gonna make it"_

He missed… something. He missed the filming, he missed the Sherlock crew. Crap, who was he fooling anyway? He missed Martin. He missed the time in between takes, he missed the laughter every time they couldn't remember a line, he missed the evenings out when they weren't too tired and the insults and the little gestures of friendship. He missed listening to music with Martin, and taking fashion lessons from him, and he missed their time in New Zealand with the hairy feet and the flipping and the dragon jokes. He missed his smile. He missed the look in his eyes when they where talking about things only they understood. He missed his touch, even if it was never meant to be anything more than friendly. He still missed it.

 

_"I got my business to help me through the day_

_People I must write to, bills I must pay_

_But everything's so different when night is on its way_

_It's bad, oh, so bad…"_

 

The time in between their meetings was bad enough. But now that they had become seriously famous their agents were flooded with projects, press was making their life even more difficult than normal, and work kept them apart. They where in touch of course - messages with pictures, silly jokes, sometimes even a phone call - but both were too busy to plan a meeting. Benedict was grateful even for the least of contacts, a word, a song, a half-hearted insult. But at night, when he was alone in bed, when he couldn't disturb Martin who was at home with his family, he felt empty. All their little conversations filled his head, they wouldn't let him sleep, they played over and over and over and made him feel sick. He wanted to do something, to eradicate the noise from his head, the images from his eyelids, to forget and sleep. He wanted someone to hold, he wanted to be able to move on. And realising he probably never would, not entirely, not ever, it made him feel even more lost, and helpless.

 

_"Somehow I'd be doing alright if it wasn't for the nights_

_(If it wasn't for the nights I think that I could make it)_

_I'd have courage left to fight if it wasn't for the nights_

_(If it wasn't for the nights I think that I could take it)_

_How I fear the time when shadows start to fall_

_Sitting here alone and staring at the wall_

_Even I could see a light if it wasn't for the nights_

_(Even I could see a light I think that I could make it)_

_Guess my future would look bright if it wasn't for the nights_

_(If it wasn't for the nights I think that I could make it)"_

 

\- Hey Ben, are you alright? -

Benedict opened his eyes, and realised tears were staining his script. Shit. Perfect. Stupid bloody tears. What use were they anyway? He ignored them, and raised his head to see who had spoken. A tall woman with long dark hair and clear blue eyes was standing in front of him, looking concerned.

\- Oh hey Sophy - Benedict didn't need to force his smile. Sophie Hunter was a good, old friend.

\- What happened? - she asked, sitting in front of him.

\- Oh… well…- he tried to think of an excuse. -The script, I was reading… it's a very good adaptation. -

She seemed disconcerted.

\- And it made you… cry? -

\- Yeah, really moving. - he answered quickly, grasping the opportunity.

\- Hamlet? - she replied with open disbelief.

\- I'll do it. I mean, I'll play Hamlet. I love Shakespeare, and this adaptation is really something - he said, trying to distract her.

It worked. She let it go immediately, and instead gave him an enormous smile.

\- Really? Oh, that's wonderful Ben! - she beamed at him. Then gave him a smirk. - I'll be seeing a lot of you, then. -

He smiled back.

\- There's not much more of me to see than you haven’t already seen in Frankenstein…- he joked. She looked positively delighted, and laughed a little.

\- Alright then, Mr. Sassy, I have to go back to work. See you around! - She started to go.

Benedict felt a little sad that she was already leaving.

\- What about dinner tonight? - he said suddenly, startling himself. Where had that come out from? Sophie looked a little surprised too.

\- Are you asking me out? - she asked, half joking.

\- Uhm… maybe. - he answered, unsure.

She smiled at him.

\- Eight o'clock sharp, Mr. Sassy. And spare the roses. - she said leaving.

Benedict looked down at the script, that had dried in the meantime. He didn't want to be alone tonight.


	3. Proposal

\- Can I ask you a very selfish question? -

Sophie giggled and cuddled closer to the naked body of her bedmate.

\- That would be a first. -

\- Oh? You don't know me as well as you pretend to do…. -

She didn't answer, just smiled. The silence stretched for some minutes.

\- If, uhm, if I asked you to marry me…. what would you say?"

Benedict murmured the words to the dark. Sophie took her time, stroking his chest with the tips of her long fingers.

\- You would never be entirely mine. -

It wasn't a question, but Benedict felt the urge to answer anyway.

\- No. - He paused. - That was…. that was why Olivia left, in the end. - he added quietly, a note of sadness in his voice.

She held very still, but when she spoke, her voice was warm.

\- I know - she reassured him. - I've always known. From the first time we met. -

Benedict didn't reply, but she could feel his guilt, filling the room like a chill.

\- I know, and I don't care. -  she went on. - I've known you for… five years now? I know you're not in love with me, and you never will be. I know that you will never be in love with me that way, like I'm the only living thing on earth, like you breathe just for me. - She paused.

\- But I also know that you love me. That you care for me, that you want to see me happy. I am happy with you, and that’s enough. So… yes. If you ever were to propose, my answer would be yes. -

He tightened his arms around her, and she could feel his smile as he bent his head to kiss her temple. She could also feel the wetness of his tears.  She didn't say anything.

They stayed like that a long time, under the covers, in silence. Sophie was starting to think that Benedict had fallen asleep, when he spoke again.

\- I'm sorry. - he whispered, so softly she almost missed it. She smiled again in the dark, but this time her smile was small and sad.

\- You have nothing to be sorry about. - she said. - Everyone has the right to save themselves. You need to move on. -

He carded his fingers through her hair, in an infinitely tender gesture.

\- What about you? - he asked.

\- I'm happy to move on with you. -


	4. Wedding

Benedict was standing in front of the mirror, checking his attire over and over for imperfections. There were none. His hands were sweating, his heart was thumping with much more force than necessary, his stomach was a knot and his guts almost hurt with worry.

_Get yourself together man, you're going to the altar, not to the fork._

He sighed. His throat was dry, so he poured himself what must have been the hundredth glass of water in the last two hours, he should really remember going to the loo before leaving. He started pacing nervously up and down the room, then stopped in front of the mirror again and started fidgeting with his cufflinks. His hands were shaking the tiniest bit. Just when he was starting to fear he would drive himself mad long before the ceremony could even begin, the door opened and a smirking Robert entered the room.

\- Stop fretting about it, Ben. - he said.

\- Not fretting - muttered Benedict, not very convincingly. Robert's smirk widened.

\- Then could you give up trying to strangle those cufflinks, please?-

\- They know too much to live. -

\- Still, not the best idea doing it in front of a judge. I could use the evidence against you.-

\- I'd bribe the jury. -

They were both grinning like idiots now, almost like Ben and Martin used to do, in better times. Ben's grin sagged a little.

\- Not going to let you bribe anyone on your wedding day, sorry. - replied Rob, still grinning like mad. Ben's smile disappeared, a shadow passing over his features and stopping there.

\- You ok? - asked Robert. He was serious in an instant, a hint of worry showing in the crease of his brow.

\- Yeah… yeah. - Benedict looked away. - Just nervous, I suppose. Or something. -

Silence stretched for a couple of minutes between them, Ben looking in the mirror again, Rob looking at him. It was a very empty silence.

\- You don't have to do it, you know, if you don't want to. - said Robert suddenly. - We can call it off, send everyone home. You don't have to do it.-

Benedict turned to look at him.

What if they did? What if he really called it off now. Told everybody the ceremony was cancelled, paid off the catering, excused the registry officer. Shipped those who wanted it back to the mainland. Went home. Home. His flat was Sophie's home too, now. How would _she_ react? Chances were, she would probably understand. She always did. And the baby? Benedict always felt a mixture of conflicting feelings when thinking about the baby. They hadn't planned it, didn't mean for it to happen so soon. Of course, family had always been their dream, their individual, separate dream, but this was not a dream, this was real. It was a wonder of course, a joy, the best and happiest thing ever happened to Ben. But it was also scariest one. What if he was not a good parent? What if he was away too much, what if Sophie's career suffered from having a child. What if he couldn't love them enough. The last thought was the scariest of all. The child wasn't even born and he already loved it more than his life, and of course he loved Sophie like his own family. But now that she was becoming his wife, he was terrified that it wouldn't be enough. That he should love her more than that, that he was doing the wrong thing. Making the wrong choice, and ruining her life.

A hand gripping his shoulder got him back on earth.

\- Benedict Cumberbatch, look at me. Now. - Robert was staring him in the eyes, a determined expression on his features.

After a moment's fight, Benedict let himself return the stare. Robert's eyes softened a bit at the corners.

\- Listen to me. Please don't panic, ok? I know what you're going through. -

_No you don't._

\- My wedding, remember? When we were sitting on that cliff, waiting for Seth. You were talking with Katia, or something. And I was there and all the time I was thinking: what if I'm not good at this. What if I let him down. I'm making the biggest promise of my life and what if I'm not enough and I cannot keep it?- Robert's hand was still gripping his shoulder, still not breaking eye contact; but he was smiling now. - You cannot know if you're enough, if you will be able to keep that promise. No one knows. But if you make it wanting to keep it, that's enough. -

After a moment of silence, Robert let his hand fall from Ben's shoulder, and took a step back. He looked at his friend, checking his overall attire, and nodded approvingly.

\- Let us see. You have…- he glanced at his wrist watch - one minute to solve your pre-matrimonial crisis, or we're going to make the bride wait. If you have decided that this is actually what you want to do, I suggest we hurry up. - He started towards the door.

\- Right. I just have to use the loo, I'll be out in a sec.-

For Robert and Seth it worked. And he loved her, no doubt. He wanted this. _But do you love her enough?_

One hand on the bathroom door, Benedict stopped.

\- Rob? - he asked without turning around. He knew Robert was waiting, leaning on the exit door. He hesitated, then went on.

\- How…. how much do you love Seth? - _Good god Ben, you and your stupid questions._

For a moment he couldn't hear any sound. Then Robert's voice answered, a bit softer and lower than usual.

\- He's my other half. Meaning he is like a part of myself. I cannot eat, talk, walk, sit, breathe without thinking of him. There isn't a moment, asleep or awake, when he is not in my mind, just like there isn't a moment when I'm not myself. I could more easily stop breathing than stop loving him. It's quite scary sometimes, but I can't help it, I can't turn it off; and besides, I don't want to. I think I am the happiest person alive to have him by my side every day, I really got the lucky chance. - He paused, considering. - Sometimes I try to imagine if he had fallen in love with someone else. I suppose I would have tried not to interfere with his happiness, gone my own way. But I don't think even that could have changed the way I love him.-

Something ached deep in Benedict's chest, but he ignored it. He nodded once, then disappeared in the bathroom.

 

 

As they went out, the sky above them was dull and grey, like everything else in the winter light. It was warm, and the rain from the day before was gone, but the sun had still no intention of showing itself. We are lucky, had said Sophie that morning. It could have been very cold, or wet. Benedict considered that in a way, he was lucky too: he had a wonderful soon-to-be-wife, a little miracle of a child inside her, a job he really loved and enough money not to worry about ordinary things.

It could have been different, of course. In other circumstances, it could have been sunny. In other circumstances, he could have been in love with Sophie as Rob was with Seth. In other circumstances, Martin could have been at his wedding. In other circumstances, he could have been marring Martin instead. But things were not different, and a grey sky was still good, in its own way.

 

That afternoon, when Benedict made his vows, it was because he wanted to keep them.


	5. Avoiding

\- You know, you cannot avoid him forever. -

\- I'm not _avoiding_ him. I work with him. - Martin replied, hitting just a bit harder on the keys of his laptop, ostensibly ignoring the pointed look Amanda was giving him behind his back, an eyebrow raised.

\- You know what I mean. -

Martin refused to lift his eyes from the laptop, stubborn as usual.

\- No, I don't. I don't really know what you're talking about. -

\- Right. And is that the same reason why you keep ignoring the invitation to the convention? -

-No.- He hesitated. -I just haven't decided yet. -

Amanda sighed. -You'll just keep postponing the answer, won't you? Until something else comes up, giving you an excuse not to go. Why am I not surprised? -

-Because you married me? - Martin turned halfway toward her, a hint of a grin on his face. She couldn't help smiling a little, but then she went serious almost immediately. She put on her I'm-taking-no-shit-from-you pose, hands on her hips, motherly scowl on her face.

-You should really stop this. It's not going to solve anything, you know that. And I don't really think it's the wise thing to do, running away from the problem I mean. You should talk to him. -

 _And tell him what?_ Martin thought. - I'm not running from anything or anyone. - he said instead. -And I do talk to him, a lot actually. We were on a set together only two months ago. You should remember, you were there. -

Amanda shook her head.

\- Not talk about work. Don't act stupid, Martin, you're not. You have been purposefully avoiding each and every social event where you knew he was going to be present. You barely greeted him last time you met outside the set, at the Hobbit premiere. Plus, on set you were always talking either about work or about the children, and after the takes you almost dragged me right home. -

\- I was tired- he protested.

\- No you were not. We didn't even go to his and Sophie's wedding! They are pretty much the closest friends we have. Well, he is, anyway. -

\- If you wanted to go that much, you could have told me. -

\- The problem is not what _I_ wanted, it's that _you_ didn't want to! - She was getting herself a bit worked up now. She tried to lower the tone of her voice. - Look, I don't care about the wedding. Or the convention. I wouldn't care if we never went to a social event ever again. But this is your job, your career, your _friend_. Whatever it is that's going on, it's not worth losing all of this over. -

Martin was staring at the floor, forearms on his knees, hands linked, in a sort of passive pose. He didn't react.

Amanda looked at him for a minute, silently. She decided to try one last card. Even if it hurt.

\- Is this about the wedding? - she asked softly.

He didn't answer, didn't even move. Someone else would have thought he hadn't heard. Only Amanda could notice the light shiver that passed down his spine, but to her it was enough.

She wasn't going to tell him: she hadn't before, and now it would have been cruel, as well as pointless. She wasn't cruel. Ben and her had never talked about it, but she could see it in his eyes, as clear as if he had screamed it. The love, the longing.

Ben had been brave, braver than anyone she knew, to step back, and it didn't matter if he had done it for Martin or for himself. She owed him. She didn't want his and Martin's friendship to crumble, either: it would have been a pointless sacrifice, another cruelty. She spoke, at last, the same soothing tone as before.

\- Martin… I'm sure that he would have told you earlier, if he had had the possibility. He probably doesn't even know why you are mad at him. Aren't you overreacting a bit? Go talk to him. He's still your friend. -

 _If he knew why I'm avoiding him, he wouldn't be anymore_ , Martin thought. He still didn't answer, didn't move, barely noticing when Amanda gave up and exited the room. He stared at the floor, not angry, not sad, just feeling incredibly tired.

He wasn't angry with Ben. Not anymore. He had been, what felt like ages ago, when the wedding announce was published. He couldn't believe that Ben hadn't told him personally, couldn't believe the fucker had been going out with Sophie since June and hadn't even thought about mentioning it in one of their conversations. At first he thought what he felt was betrayal. He hadn't spoken to him for a long time, not even at the premiere, trying to sulk a bit. It hadn't felt good. It had felt like hell. Martin had been ready to forgive him, to forget, be good friends and all the stuff, maybe even make a speech at the ceremony. But when they had met on set after the holidays, Sophie was there and, as a revelation, he finally realized. He wasn't offended. He was _jealous._ She was there, talking to Ben, laughing with him, and he was smiling at her, a private smile, like he had forgotten that Martin was there too. Suddenly the idea of being at their wedding felt nauseating. The idea of them marrying was nauseating. He hid it how he could, trying to smile, to chat with her, even putting his hand on her stomach to feel the bump once, when she offered. The idea of Ben's baby was nice. The idea of Ben with Sophie was not.

He tried to figure out what had changed, what was wrong with him, but he couldn't. Maybe it was that Ben hadn't been serious with anyone for as long as he had known him. Maybe it was because it had happened so quickly, maybe it was just that he couldn’t get all of Ben's attention anymore. Maybe it was his smile.

Martin was angry again, this time with himself. He hated that he had chosen that of all moments to fall in love with his best friend, and he hated that he had fucking _fallen in love_ with the man, of all things. Well, if he was completely honest with himself, that was a long time coming; he knew it. But what was the point with honesty, really? He had never admitted it before, and he still wouldn’t have admitted it now, if he had had a choice. He was married, after all; certain things are better left buried. But he didn't get to choose: it was over him all at once, seven years of friendship and feelings, half ignored, half dismissed. It was all over him and he could not hide it, he felt like Ben could read it on him every time he looked at him, he felt like it would all come out the minute he lifted his eyes into Ben's once more. He started to avoid him, because he could not explain it to him. Not now that he was going to marry her, not ever. And he was furious with himself, because he had let this happen, because he hadn't got better control, because he could not conceal it, will it away.

They had married on an island on Valentine's day (so sappy, so perfect) and he had used it as an excuse not to show up, taking Amanda and the children out for the day. He could not go, could not sit through it, toast to them, make a stupid speech and some silly jokes. He was not that good an actor.

He stood up, feeling like a stone was weighting on his shoulders. He glanced at the phone on the table, but there was only the unopened message from Mark, asking again if he would come to the convention. He had not heard from Ben in almost a month. He missed him like hell. Picking up the phone, he hovered with his thumb over the message. He decided against it. He really wanted to go to the convention (they were going to tell to the public John's story) but he wasn't sure he was ready to face Ben yet. To see the gold band on his finger, to meet Sophie and her enormous belly. To congratulate the couple.

He slid the phone into his pocket, closed the laptop with a click and marched towards the kitchen.

Tomorrow. He'd decide tomorrow.


	6. Confrontation

\- Cut! -

The tension in the air went out, as if everyone on set had breathed out at once, and the usual background noise of reset filled the room again. It was the first take on one of the most important scenes of the whole series, and Martin was quite surprised they had actually made it through without a break. He had been feeling John’s thoughts right inside his head and in every nerve of his body, almost like it had been during the first series, and he could see from the satisfied and admiring faces around that everyone else had been invested in the scene too.

\- Alright, good work people! I’m hoping to make the next the definitive one, so everyone takes fifteen while we reset and then we can go for another take. -

People started moving in every direction, crossing the scene and invading the set. In front of him, Martin could see Benedict getting out of character, and he smiled at him with approval, trying to catch his eye, but the other actor didn’t seem to notice. He was frowning, looking down like something had profoundly upset him, and after a second he turned around and disappeared into the surrounding crowd off set.

\- Are you alright? -

Mark was standing beside him, a wary look on his face. He gave him a superficial smile, trying to mask his unease at Ben’s strange behaviour.

\- Of course, yeah, I’m fine - he said, his standard answer at the much-too-frequently-asked question. - Good job this last one - he added.

\- Yes, - replied Mark, a little proud smile forming for a second on his lips. Then he glanced at the empty spot where Benedict had stood, and the smile was replaced with worry, and a touch of guilt. - Have you talked to Ben today? - he asked.

Martin frowned. Actually, he hadn’t had the opportunity to talk to his co-star since they had arrived on set in the morning, and if he thought about it, it felt a bit like Ben had been avoiding him lately. Since filming the new series things between them had been going surprisingly well, after over a year of silence. The start hadn’t been easy, the first read-through almost painfully awkward, and during the first week they had talked very little off screen. But the connection was still there, authentic and uncomplicated, and it had drawn them back together little by little, while their guard was down; even if they were miles from the implicit understanding of their first years, it still felt remarkably better than during the special.

If Martin was honest, it probably had something to do with the problems he and Amanda had been having on and off. He still called it “a row”, but deep inside him something felt different this time around, and he didn’t feel like exploring the possibility that it had something to do with his unsettling, unwanted, unrequited feelings for Ben. He and Amanda had both become quite good at acting like nothing was going on, but he could feel a breach opening between them, and he had no idea how to close it again. Or if he even wanted to. It probably also helped that Sophie hadn’t been around almost at all. For all his internal work of repressing and ignoring, Martin still couldn’t watch her and Ben together without a twinge of jealousy down his stomach. So how hadn’t he noticed Ben making himself scarce lately?

\- No, I… You know what? I need to go check on him. I mean, I’ll go check. Just to… yeah. Check. - He excused himself quite clumsily, not caring what Mark thought of it, and marched off toward Ben’s trailer outside the studio. He wasn’t going to let the fucker get away so easily this time, not when he finally thought he was getting his best friend back. Maybe they had both been idiots, maybe he _was_ helplessly in love with someone he absolutely shouldn’t be, but he wasn’t going to lose the one relationship he cared about without even knowing why. He arrived at the trailer and knocked on the door.

\- Ben, it’s Martin. Are you there? -

No answer. The silence stretched for so long he had almost decided to leave, when he spied a movement behind the door. Then it opened a smidge, and Benedict’s face appeared behind it. His eyes were red and puffed, and it looked like he had been crying, even if his expression now was a mask of neutrality. Martin didn’t comment, but took a step forward, and Benedict silently moved to let him through, closing the door behind him.

\- Are you alright? I saw you running form the set - ventured Martin. Ben breathed out a puff of air. He had turned his back to Martin, and didn’t turn around to answer.

\- I wanted some peace in between the takes. Although, it doesn’t look like I’m going to be allowed the luxury - he answered dryly.

Aggression. Martin didn’t expect that one. He was the passive aggressive one usually. What had he done now?

\- I’m sorry, is something wrong? - he asked, licking his lips, curled in one of his challenging smiles.

\- Is something wrong? No, I just really like storming off the set looking upset. God Martin, sometimes you really sound like John. -

Martin was getting irritated now. Why couldn’t the fucker just tell him what the matter was? He breathed in, breathed out. He should stay calm, try and give the gentle approach another chance.

\- Do you want to talk about this? -

Benedict finally turned around, a look of resignation on his features. - Listen, I know you mean well, - he started, - but I don’t really think that would help in any way. Let’s just get this script over with, then we can all go home and forget about it. -

The script? Now Martin was thoroughly confused. _And_ annoyed.

\- Fine! But would you tell me at least what is that we’re supposed to forget about? -

Now it was Ben’s turn to look confused. And then surprised.

\- You…. Don’t know what I’m talking about. - It wasn’t a question, so Martin just kept staring at him with his arms crossed. - You don’t…. Why are you here asking me about it then? -

Martin was really losing his patience now. - I don’t know what’s up with you, that’s exactly the reason why I’m asking, because I don’t know! -

\- You mean you didn’t notice? How didn’t you notice? Not even John is that oblivious! Come to think about it, they probably gave you the part because you are just as oblivious as he is. - Now Benedict seemed to have lost his calm too, and was flailing his hands in the air a bit Sherlock-like, raising his voice.

\- That’s bullshit, I got the part because of you. And John is not oblivious! -

Benedict almost full out hysterically laughed at this. - No, of course not, getting married under Sherlock’s nose wasn’t oblivious at all! -

\- At least _he_ had the decency to tell his best friend he was getting married! -

\- At least Sherlock actually showed up at the wedding! -

\- Well, maybe I couldn’t stomach the thought of watching you get married! - As soon as the words had left him, Martin covered his mouth with a hand, horrified. That wasn’t supposed to come up, at all.

\- Well, I’m sorry if my attempt at moving on was inconvenient for you. - All the fight seemed to have gotten out of Ben, but he didn’t sound bitter, just sad. - I thought you were a better friend than that - he added softly, while moving past Martin toward the trailer’s door. At the last minute, Martin came out of his shock and grabbed Ben’s elbow, forcing him to stop.

\- Wait a minute, you were trying to move on? From whom? - Ben’s head turned sideways, and he looked at Martin with his eyes full of sadness, and desperation, and love. Then he freed his arm with a pull, and got out of the trailer.


	7. At long last

As Martin prepared himself for the TST screening, he took a considering look around his new flat. Some boxes were still lying around, and there were a couple items of furniture left to buy, but all in all it was starting to have the right feeling - home. He had thought separation was going to be a messy, painful affair. But all in all, it had been surprisingly easy, as if after all the months of arguing, and silence, and distance, parting ways had been the easiest, most peaceful thing to do. The thing that had felt most unbalancing of all, maybe, was moving somewhere else. Not having the kids to wake up in the morning. Driving to another street, another house. Going out for a walk in his free time and finding himself in another part of London, another park, another neighbourhood. But he had gotten used to it, day by day, and now it felt… normal. Not uncomfortable, not strange. Alright.

Martin stepped in front of the wardrobe, considering his array of formal jackets. Then he took out a jeans jacket and put it on. Fuck it, he thought. Ben was most probably going to be dressed formally enough for both of them. Even as he smiled to himself, he felt a nervous contraction to his stomach. This was going to be the night, he had decided, and yet the idea of finally going back to that conversation, back in July, made him feel terrified and slightly nauseous. What if he had misread? There hadn’t been any explicit clarification, after all, not between them. Not really their style.

As it was, when Benedict had stormed out of the trailer that day, Martin had been left standing there, in between shock and confusion. Ben had been in love with him? Ben was still in love with him? How come he had not seen it? And how stupid of an idea was it to marry someone else - actually, not. He himself was married, after all, and Ben had always really wanted kids. He had done the only right thing there was to do, the honourable bastard.

As the shock left him, Martin had felt for the first time in months a relief - a lightness - that he hadn’t noticed he had been missing. He wanted to run after Benedict and stop him, talk to him, fix all of this. But he knew he should make things right with Amanda first. He hadn’t wanted to even consider their problems before, trapped between feelings he no longer had and feelings he shouldn’t have had, but not anymore. He would be honest with himself, and with her, and so would she. Wherever this was going, they could be brave enough to face it together.

Martin had gone out, looking for Ben. One of the assistants told him he had gone to the park, where they were fixing up the cameras to have another take of a previous scene, so he had followed him there. He spotted Benedict standing in the middle of a lawn, darker and more brooding than usual, and walked straight up to him, opening his arms at the last minute, engulfing him in a hug. _It’s alright_ , said the hug. _I still care for you_. _We are ok_. And as he squeezed a bit tighter than necessary, _hang on in there_. _Wait for me_. Or at least Martin had hoped Ben would understand this last part. Benedict had returned the hug without a second of hesitation, and as they let go, Martin had seen a fraction of a smile on his face. He had nodded his head in return, and things had gone back to normal after that.

Now Martin tried to relax as he stepped into the backstage area. He was a bit earlier than required, but so were the others, apparently, because after less than a minute he was being happily greeted by both Mark and Susan. No sign of Amanda yet, which made him slightly relieved, but the feeling was short lived, as he spotted Benedict across the room talking to Steven. He stopped, trying to decide how to face the task before him, but as he was evaluating the problem (and trying not to panic) Steven saw him and started making his way through the room, followed by Ben.

\- Martin! How nice to see you. -

\- You too Steven, you too -

\- Martin -

\- Ben -

After everyone had hugged and shaken hands, they fell into a friendly conversation about the fans and the episode. Steven looked like a kid with a bag of sweets, or maybe like a cat with a canary, while Benedict kept sneaking glances at Martin, without that the latter could figure out what he was thinking about. After five minutes or so, Mark appeared beside Steven.

\- It appears we are needed onstage, Steven. Something to do with the questions for the Q&A. -

Steven looked bewildered. - I just spoke to the bloke, we saw that everything was in order… -

 - Well it isn’t now. Will you excuse us? - Mark dragged Steven off by his elbow, giving a knowing smile to the two actors. As they went away, Benedict turned to Martin.

\- I, uhm, heard about you and Amanda - he said. - I’m very sorry. - His face was perfectly blank, a monument to his acting skills. Martin braced himself.

\- I’m not. - Ben’s face didn’t change, so he pushed through. - It was a long time coming -

Ben looked down, then up again, as if paying respect to the dead relationship.  - I see - he said. He cleared his throat. - So how are you holding up? -

\- Oh, alright, I guess. Bought a new house. And I’m moving on. - He never lowered his eyes from Ben’s, carefully noting his reactions.

This time Benedict seemed mildly surprised. - Oh. Already? -

\- Let’s say it was part of the final problem - Martin deadpanned. Benedict looked deflated, even as he was trying his best to conceal it. He didn’t seem to catch the pun, which made Martin a bit disappointed.

\- Well… uhm. How is that going, then? - Ben was doing his best to look politely interested. Martin was feeling more and more confident, and had to use all of his talent not to lose his mask.

\- Not so well, I’m afraid. There are some minor issues, as it is - he replied unfazed.

\- Such as? -

\- Well, for the first thing, he’s married. - The shock on Ben’s face almost made Martin lose it.  - I didn’t show up to his wedding ‘cause I’m so fucking in love with him I couldn’t bear it, and I’m not sure he is ever going to forgive me. - Now a smile was spreading on Martin’s lips, against his will.

\- That’s a pretty serious one, yeah - replied Benedict. A smile was starting to curl the corners of his mouth too, and it only made Martin’s grin wider. - On the other hand, I think he may just love you enough to forgive you - he added.

Martin made a face of mock surprise. - Oh? Do you know him? -

\- I may have met him once or twice, yes. - Now they were both grinning like idiots.  - Quite good looking, but such an idiot. -

\- Yeah, well. It seems like I have a thing for tall and handsome idiots. - Martin replied. They had gravitated nearer and nearer, never losing eye contact, smiling like it was Christmas and New Year and the best day of their life all at the same time. Martin’s right hand was on Benedict’s nape, the other on his shoulder, as was Benedict’s right hand. The rest of the world could be dead and they wouldn’t care.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t, and a voice started calling on stage in five minutes. Still grinning like idiots in love, they went to join the others.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of my own fantasy. The people who have the same names as these characters are not, in any way, related to this work. Their private life is their own and my speculation is just that, speculation.


End file.
